


What Spouses Do

by Senora_Luna



Series: 30 Day OTP Smut One Shots [5]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Just Married, Kinky, Light Dom/sub, Married Couple, Married Sex, Masturbation, Newly weds, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: They've barely been married a month, and are still learning about one another. Sometimes getting caught opens the door.





	What Spouses Do

Married. A married man for nearly a month, Héctor reflected as the morning sun stretched lines along his bed. The place beside him was empty, how bittersweet Imelda had allowed him to rest instead of rousing him for the early market so they could have best picks of produce. A little twinge of guilt stirred as he thumbed at her abandoned pillow, he had promised to go along with her (despite his tendency to sleep late after years of evening performances) but she had also said she would wake him if she needed him. Hmph, there she was again, fiercely independent, not letting herself _need_ his assistance. That or…maybe it was a simply a kind gesture for a month anniversary.

                Shrugging to his back with a yawn, he stretched his arms high, and dropped a palm on his face to rub away the crust of sleep and lines of drool. He scratched down his stomach momentarily startled by his own nudity-before recalling the rather delicious circumstances that had removed his clothing the night before. That had been…an excellent evening. They hadn’t had any musical gigs, nor performances to wake for, after a few busy weeks once their wedding celebrations had been over. With the freedom they had…taken their time to indulge as husband and wife-just the thought was bringing a blissful warmth and tingle in him. It was overwhelmingly enough to let out a soft laugh into the empty room, and cover his face with a soft ‘ay mi vida…’ at the debauchery they had gotten up to.

                How did men complain about marriage!? True, it was odd to get used to a woman around all the time, sharing your time was occasionally exhausting, but with someone as incredible as Imelda every momentary discomfort was fleeting or repaid in bliss. The night before no exception as warmth pooled in his cheeks, images in the moonlight rushing to the front of his mind; the clearest being the flushed face of his wife-above him, riding him a bared carnal pleasure.

                “Imelda…” He muttered her name in a boyish whine looking at her abandoned bedside. The rousing thoughts made her absence not just lonely-but a touch maddening. If only she were still here he could have wrapped his arms around her petite body, giving her kisses until she woke (that is the rare times he woke before her) then let his body relieve some tension with a grind against her backside. Ugn, that culo of her’s-could he be any more blessed? The memory of the night before flooded in like an encompassing fever.

                Twisting in their warm cotton blanket, (a fine wedding gift) he resumed the pose of last evening, happily passive on his bed. She’d lifted his hands to her rear when he kept gripping the pillows out of pleasure instead. The warmth, the intimacy, the sheer audacity of how confident and aware of her beauty she was-all of it had wracked him with bliss last evening with such intensity it was filling him with longing now. The room was feeling humid, and his torso muscles were clenching as he felt the prickles of arousal awakening his sex.

                He had no idea where his pocket watch was placed nor did he have the energy to rise and search for their twisting alarm clock. Imelda must have left at her usual time-probably an hour or so after dawn. It must only be a couple hours later from the sunlight and a frustrated groan left him she would not be returning for a time. Already he could feel his cock jumping to life from the memories, perking awake and demanding attention less he wanted a frustrated tension in his limbs the rest of the day.

                Well he couldn’t expect her to handle _all_ of his needs now could he, and he certainly had years of practice alone. Licking his palm he reclined a hand to softly smooth across his length-maybe this feeling would pass with a little indulgence. On the contrary, he thought of her and the heat coiled like a spring in his pelvis, demanding a firmer touch for relief. He needed to grip tighter for a brush of relief, feeling the pads of his fingers slowly tugging down the foreskin to give the head some relief.

                His wife’s flushed face came to mind-that hungry look of pleasure, all of the fire she carried in her daily life-restrained-finally unleashed between them as she allowed herself the freedom of voice and body with him-so he hoped nothing could be more beautiful and erotic. With his free hand he circled soft lines upon his bare stomach as she liked to do.

With a firmer hand he began some tight jutting strokes, trying to mimic the way her coño had caressed. Imelda and her beautiful round hips, her lovely dangling breasts jerking across her chest when their bodies rocked together, his thighs roughly sending his weight in return to her own that melted his pelvis. That long black hair, a warm brown in the sunlight, sometimes in moonlight, dressing her like a sheer gown as it plastered to her glistening skin from the layers of sweat which her vigor quickly brought on. And she was all his. _His_ ring was on her finger, his bed was where she slept, and his essence, the semen, frantically avoided during courtship, was allowed to remain in her-all of him fully accepted by her.

His head tossed back with a moan as he kicked away the blanket feeling a sweat start on the hairier parts of his chest. The sound of his rapid tight strokes echoed in the otherwise empty room with liquid smacks. Imelda, Imelda, Imelda,-fierce, independent, beautiful singer, dancer, so against marriage Imelda…his. His for an entire month-and the rest of their lives. How on earth had the stars aligned for him to wind up so lucky! The room was hazy, his vision clouded with images of her body, images of her face, her words, her shrieking orgasm when she convulsed on top of his cock vibrating him with pleasure, and screaming in his ear; te amo, te amo, mas, mas, Héctor…Héctor…

“Héctor?” That didn’t come from his head. Panicked, his eyes shot open just in time to see the door finish opening, Imelda coming in to see if he were awake. It happened so quickly in series of events. Both froze; she in her walking clothes, he nude as a babe clutching his own cock. Then reality caught up with him with a force of a steam engine and he scrambled in the bed like they were in an earthquake, snatching the discarded blanket and pressing it over his lap as though there were something she’d never seen before. Then he managed a reaction-a very forced sheepish smile caught in such a private act when he’d meant to be out shopping with her.

“Bu-buenos dias!” He reclined on an elbow, ignoring the screeching pain in the back of his head of how much it _ached_ to stop stroking. However panic and embarrassment had hold of the reigns right now, neither about to relent. Imelda blinked, and his heart hammered faster wondering if he were about to receive a terrible scolding. Of all they’d shared this was new. Sure they acknowledged it happened-one another had done self-mutilation-or self-pleasure as he corrected her Catholic tongue- before marriage. But wed…bodies belonging to one another, that had yet to be discussed.

Imelda finally stirred from her rooted position, and finished closing the door behind her as she eyed his panting body with kind of curiosity that made him feel his bones were exposed. Maybe she hadn’t noticed, maybe it didn’t look half as bad as he assumed, maybe-,

“Were you…-you were touching yourself…” Imelda’s tone musing, and to his surprise there was not an anger in her eyes. On contrary they seemed wide, engaged, slightly mischievous as she began to pull off her boots while keeping eyes on his nervous face.

“Uh…ay…lo siento I…I woke up and I didn’t know when you would be home, not that I would have made you-uh-…hm I should…get dressed.” Another laugh and pleading smile until the creak of their mattress frame brought his trailing eyes front and center. Her hand was pressed on the mattress, and eyes cunning and smooth with interest.

“You don’t have to stop on my account…It’s not like I haven’t seen your pito before…or you spending.” There was something melodic in her voice, pleased, it made his cock twitch for attention beneath the blanket.

                “You’re not angry?”

                “Depends what you were thinking of.” The smirk on her face reassured him, and a cautious one began on his own.

                “I’d think it would be obvious.”

                “I want to hear it.” Oh…those words, her brown eyes transfixed as she began to remove her dirt trailed dress so to climb properly on the bed and keep it clean.

                “Last night…” Her fingers caught the blanket and gave it a little tug until his erection was exposed to the cool air once more. The friction of the wool sliding away made him shiver, and he eyed her desperately.

                “Which moment?”

                “When you were over me, and I was in you…and you were dominating the motions…you looked so beautiful...” Just speaking about it forced the erect length to shiver and momentarily tap against his stomach. As if he could possibly get harder in this moment. Crawling closer, beside him in her long white shift and petticoat she leaned into his ear with hot breath.

                “You can keep going…”

                “Huh…with you…?”  

                “I want to watch you. I want to hear what you’re thinking of.” Oh. A dribble of precum ran down the side of his cock, and she rested her head upon his shoulder, watching with a cat-like preying.

                “Did something happen at the market?” He managed, bewildered. Imelda gave a tiny frown rolling her eyes.

                “Simply the usual…men thinking they can raise their prices because I’m a ‘poquita niñita’ and I won’t notice…or the occasional on looker making eyes at me, thinking because I’m alone I’m their’s for the taking…” The thought made his stomach turn in a new way, for all the awe he felt that she was his a moment ago, a protective jealousy surged in him at the thought of another man thinking he had _any_ sort of right to even _think_ or _look_ on his wife with lust. Of course she was beautiful, but she deserved their respect. What kind of manner lacking burro confronts a mujera in the street to shout obscenities or force her from errands.

                “Bastardos…” He grumbled between his teeth.

                “I scared them off.”

                “I’m sure you did, doesn’t change what they are.”

                “It made me want to come home to you…sometimes the world feels so dirty and foolish…and being beside you, in the world you make around me-its comforting.” The mixture of her contempt and desire ran over his neck making him shudder again, chest rising visibly with her every word. “Stroke yourself, tell me what you’re thinking,” The words felt like hypnotism in his ear, the sensual way they rolled into him. In need he hesitantly ran his hands downward once more curling around his erection with a meek groan.

                “I’m thinking…I’m thinking…I wish I’d been there to keep an arm around you…to threaten anyone who bothered you’re so brave-you don’t deserve it…”

                “I can protect myself you know…” She sighed into his shoulder, her gaze fixated on the way his fingers pressed little patterns around his cock, tugging at the base, then head, in alternating tingling rhythms.

                “Mm…you’re so strong…I’m very aware…but I like being there-you’re _my_ wife after all.” The thought made him strokes a little faster, his hips curving slightly off the mattress.

                “And you’re my husband, do you think I feel any better when I see those niñas cooing over you when you perform in the plaza without me? I nearly rung the neck of the girl who kept swaying her skirts to get your attention last week…little puta…”  

                “D-don’t be…cruel…” The possessiveness in her, the anger as her hands slide down, tightening around his thigh like he could be taken away, it made his need all the more vicious as he stole a glance in her direction.

                “Oh really…could I say the same to you if I told you some cabrón pinched my culo when I-,”

                “What!” A hiss left him an octave deeper than he expected, fury, protectiveness, jealousy, all of it as he stopped momentarily looking her raised brows, the flush building on her pretty face. “Who! What did he look like-when!” Reflexively his hands caught her shoulders.

                “Why, are you jealous?”

                “No one has the right Imelda-no one…” He trailed off, she’d slipped closer straddling his thigh as he panted as though he were running to keep up with her. A feral part of him longed to rip her corset away, rip her petticoats to pieces and use his body to separate her from any prying hands or eyes.

                “Me gusta when you’re so protective, it’s charming that the only thing that makes you angry is anyone coming between us…”

                “Anyone hurting you-anyone-,” Before he could go on she pressed her mouth to his, and they were intertangled in a messy twist of tongues. Saliva ran out the corners, and both took no qualms in claiming the other with long cleaning licks. “Jésus, Maria, y Juan…” Héctor panted his free hands slipping to cup the back of her head-tangling long fingers in her black braid like it were a reign.

                “Keep touching yourself, I want to see you spend…you’re the only man I’d ever want to see spend-and feel it…”

                “Imelda, you’re the only woman who brings me to the point of it.” It was true, her red face, he’d smeared her lipstick, and left his saliva across her but she didn’t seem to mind. She glowed with the energy of a sensual goddess, at home and in her element of sexuality. “You’re a lady you deserve respect…”

                “I like being without a title with you…I like I can do anything and you still think I’m a lady.” She purred in his ear. “Even if some foul cabrón tried to grope me.”

                “Of course….you’re…you’re always a lady-you exude class…dignity…your sensuality just makes…makes you connected with your body…dios mierda-me encanta…” His cock was twitching violently-words becoming too hard and slowly she drifted from his shoulders. It was hard to tell where she was going until he felt the pressure of her head on his thigh-so close to his frantically stroking fist.

                “Release on me.” The words made his stomach jump up into his throat. He would of slowed his pace if physically possible but his body was nearly mechanical. A weak protest came out between his gasps.

                “Y-you’re joking-you’re….you’re-hng-,I wouldn’t-….insult.”

                “I want you on me…I want to feel you on me somewhere public…so when cábrons look on my face I can remember how your intimate mark was there,” Tempting him further she ran a hand down to his cajones, scooping each heavy ball into her palm and giving a little squeeze that sent him over the edge-hips curling high in suspension. Then she said the two words that broke him. “ _Por favor…”_

                Imelda _loathed_ to need or plead anything. Knowing her desire was at such a point made his mind blank-and he absently obeyed, carefully tugging her foreword by the chin, that she was angled for the hot spurts to hit her cheek. The first rushed out in a painful gasp, so pent up from all his pausing that the glops where thick and voluminous. A line painting along her cheek, then over her beauty mark, through her eyelashes and eyebrow.

                With whatever consciousness he had, he tried to check she wasn’t recoiling or regretting the decision before the second burst. To his relief a nearly excited look was on her closed eyed face-a smirk tugging at her lips. A perfect line for liquid to settle as it splattered down her mouth, dripping over the corner of her chin, then another-less forceful, falling flat to her corset. The hot sticky fluid cooled on her skin, drizzling down in streaks and starting to harden.

                Struggling to keep his gaze from going blurry he waited anxiously-waited for her approval. With a nonchalant finger she cleaned the mark off her eyelid and slowly sucked it off her fingers. Brown eyes opening, tinged with embers. Fire burning in her wild, free, not about to be tamed on whatever limits the church or their peers set as appropriate for the marriage bed vs the whore house. He watched with wonder, seeing her moist finger slip out of her mouth, just for her tongue instead to run over the white-gray large splotch across her bottom lip.

                “Now I feel better…those niñas won’t ever know this taste…or feel something like this. This is entirely _mine.”_ The sight of her felt like fireworks in his head. How could she sit there, covered in his orgasm with such pride-she was Imelda. She was his wife. She was unafraid of the pleasures of their flesh and their union that bound them. Suddenly his release felt hours ago-this beauty, this lovely woman, his spitfire Imelda-he _needed her._

                A hard kiss had her pressed against him, and he didn’t mind the taste of his own semen, in her mouth-on the contrary the salty reminder showed him he was going into her body, swallowed, a part of him carried with her and nourishing her like food. A guttural noise ran into her and her and the thought of her harassed at the market-bothered or taunted or shamed by anyone in town made him nearly mad. It suddenly felt like his mind was getting lost in enveloping her-possessing her and shielding her from the world so grimy to her sex, just like the same mania that lost him in song writing.

                Swiftly, he yanked her petite, warm, body to his, breaking the kiss. Imelda opened her mouth to say something, but it was lost because he gripped the corset synched center of her waist to spin her around-her back flush to his hairy chest as he pulled his knees up. A soft smirk painted him, mischief coming to his reawakening brain at the small squeak she made as he seamlessly lifted and hooked each of her legs over his corresponding knee. Spreading her thighs apart, that he had an explicit unrushed view of her sex by peeking over her shoulder. Imelda’s breath was quickening, normally it was her to do the mischievous dominant things in bed-whenever he did she seemed so surprised and helpless in his arms, that it was impossible to resist.

                “This right here…” His hands slid down, giving a tiny yank-to the slit in her bloomers that exposed her sex, “is what had me needing to stroke myself…how warm it was in you…how beautiful you look when I’m pleasuring your secret places.” Without warning he collected the warm sticky line of semen off her cheek then molded it between his fingers. Imelda looked on waiting, waiting, until the hand slipped between her legs, using the fluid as lubrication to pry open her folds to the sensitive valley inside. A soft whimper came out as she rolled her head to his shoulder.

                “Best in all of Mexico I am told…” She murmured using his words against him.

                “And no bastardo is ever going to have the privilege to know that…” His voice was shuddering with its bass vibrations as it often did when singing, curling his semen coated fingers upwards toward her peeking clit as he pulled it free from the protective hood. “And only the most private parts of me…get to know yours…you won’t find my release anywhere else but on you….”

                “Héctor…” Her head rolled back with a dazed, drunken, chuckle, “unless you’re pleasuring yourself to thoughts of me…you needy man.”

                “How could anyone look at you and not need you,” He muttered possessively pushing down on the fleshly little button that her hips bucked-but couldn’t close the slights from the stirrups of his knees. “Good or wetter?”

                “W-wetter…stings a bit…” She instructed, and his fingers ran up her neck leaving a trail of their intermixed fluids.

                “Then won’t you be a loving wife and help?” He chuckled into her ear, nipping at the top. “Or are you too prideful? Is this too squeamish-,” Perhaps out of spite she sucked her own taste from his index and middle finger, trailing her tongue between each digit with the same energy and attention as she would have his cock. But he would have to pin those thoughts or it would surely spring to life prematurely. Once his fingers were nearly puckering from the fluid he drew them from her mouth, cleaning a line of salvia off her face then running his hand back down.

                ‘Why should I fear my own body?” She murmured back, “If some cábrons on the street think they have a right to it, I certainly should…” She wiggled against him, and her bottom brushed his resting cock deliciously. Her arms wrapped behind his head as she watched his expression hungry, wanting, little pants leaving her from beneath the constrictive corset.

                “Diosa…” He reserved the name as she usually rolled her eyes when he was too ‘sappy’ as she put it. “Anyone who dreams of getting near you should know it requires an offering…” Before she realized his intention he suddenly ripped the slit wider on her bloomers. Truly she must have been hazy with pleasure to not scold him-as cool air feel upon her vulnerable spread sex. His wet fingers found her slit, and ran up for tiny, nearly not touching but gloriously smooth circles around her clitoris. “I feel you throbbing…”

                “You know I like that…”

                “I know exactly what you like-you’re my wife…” He muttered sternly in her ear nipping it again as he fingers pressed down earning out a moan from her. “I know you like this too…” Suddenly his fingers picked up a frantic slathering pace, shaping her delicate folds under the force and speed his fingers kneaded across her. The sound of the squishing fluid rising to his ears like a divine chorus of her arousal-as she tried to curl into herself from the intense pleasure-squealing out high pitched into his ear.

                “Héc-Héctor!”

                “Que?”

                “D—don’t- que-you-AH!” She squeaked the pace was so frantic-but it was impossible to even close her legs when she tried he had them pinned by his own legs. “Oh-oh-oh-oh-it’s-it’s-too much-,”

                “Nada you just don’t like it when you can’t control your voice from getting so high…” He purred against her neck licking over the veins. “But this is my special concert…the rest of the world doesn’t know how to make you sing like this.”

                “A-a-h….” Her voice was vibrating with her whole body, he wanted to devour the sound and hold it within wherever he went it was so raw and untinged with her sense of pride or propriety. It was raw and emotional as he knew she was at her core.

                “Bueno…si…relax…enjoy it…” Héctor coached, his smirk into her neck when he finally felt her body convulse in a spasm that was more uncontrollable than all her other attempts to slow him down. For a moment he gave her pause as she gasped against her corset, her body straining for hair. Taking mercy on her he used his large palms to open the front hooks-making it much easier to manage harsh breaths. A few little tears mixed with his drying semen on her face as he lifted his head to kiss her. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

                “You’re…ridiculous…when you….play these…games…”

                “Ay but you’re so guapa,” And his hands slid up to find her freed breasts. The slightest touch made her quiver from the hypersensitive state he had left her in as he rubbed away the marks of compression the corset had left. “Hm you still look stressed from such a market trip-maybe you need some more?”

                “I didn’t say…mm..” She breathlessly trailed off feeling his fingers flick her nipples through the fabric of her shift. “Maybe…”

                “Ask for it.”

                “Pft…”

                “Ask…” He pressed her nipples down, into each breast as her back curled off his chest with a wince.

                “Touch me.”

                “How?” By now they’d played like this enough she knew his script-she hated it-but today-today she already putty in his hands from the moment she caught him bare in their bed. His palms shaped down her freed form, squeezing every curve with intention. Part of him longed to strip her bare-and grind on her until he was hard enough to fill that petite body and fill her with the same claim he’d left on her face. But this was too fun, watching her like this-when he was in her everything became too hazy to focus and admire.

                “Between my legs…until-until I spend…”

                “All over my hands-you promise?” He teased in her ear and she bit her lip between shyness and want.

                “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want just touch me damn it.” The words made him seize with anticipation-he scooped her tight to his back and without mercy his fingers began to feverishly, barrel down on her sensitive bead-already swollen and wet from her last orgasm. She was nearly liquid in his arms, laying her head back with whimpering cry, louder now without her corset- his free arm clutching her closely.

                “I want you to soak me in that lovely nectar, you have such a pretty flower don’t you know that? I’m tempted to eat the pedals every time I see them…I’ll devour it for breakfast if you let me…you’re not the only one who likes the intimacy of it.”

                “Mmm-mi-mariachi-,” It was a mixture of pleasure and bashfulness. Yes her mariachi-just as she was his.

                “Si mi pájaro?” He pushed in hard, pulling and molding the whole of her sex as he his entire arm shook with the force and intensity he pressed along her. A crying scream came out-she broke in his arms singing just as he wanted-gasping, gasping, gasping. The beautiful woman from the market, proud, cold, distant, so intimate, warm, fragile in his arms. He scooped her close murmured a soft prayer gratitude to the heavens as she recovered in his arms.

                Slowly, he lowered his legs, allowing hers to go free with a gentle caress to the strained juncture of each thigh. Nuzzling her to his chest he pressed kisses against her sweating face-some of the sweat causing his own release to run down her chin. What a holy secret sight. What special hidden joys of marriage.

                As she inhaled he licked his fingers clean moaning into her ear with a smirk.

                “Gracias para desayuno.”

                “Tambíen tu…” Imelda murmured, slumping into the massage he offered down her thighs then across her backside. “Don’t worry…I kicked him in the shin…” Came a soft sigh as his hands worried across he rear.

                “Wake me up next time,” He muttered in a soft scold pinching her, himself as she gave a soft laugh.

                “And miss the chance to walk in on you self-violating…oh confession will be fun for you this week.”

                “Ay dios don’t make me go…”

                “I thought you wanted to walk with me to protect from leering eyes,” There was a cockiness to her tone now-a giggle leaving her as her huffed into her ear with a grumbling curse. “Feliz aniversario…” His head cropped up excitedly.

                “You remembered-I thought you said it was dumb to celebrate anything but a year-?”

                “Mm…I’m making an exception…” She muttered in her post orgasm bliss brushing hair off her face. “You gave me a secret part of you after all…a good esposo.”

                “I think you are too.”

                “Good…” She was nearly dozing off against his stomach. A small smile met his face as he strummed hair out of her eyes.

                “Feiz aniversario…but seriously what did he look like.”

                “Go run a bath for us.” Imelda half slurred.

                “Not unless you come with me.” And with a sudden yelp he had her in his arms. “After all esposos do things together-like taste secret sexual liquids and **_go-to-the-market_** _.”_ Despite his scolding her laughter echoed down the hall.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My writing and art are available for commission at my tumblr. If my work makes you smile, a ko-fi helps me so much! The support of ko-fis and commissions have enabled me to write all I have! Thank you. 
> 
> http://senoraluna.tumblr.com/


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